Mothering Grown-ups

Once upon a time I thought that my children would grow up and my job as a mother would be done. Though I love being a mom, I was tired. With a capital "T". And the kids were always fighting and getting into trouble, babies nekked in the front yard, others jumping off the porch into pillows...it was crazy around here. The house was a wreck. Laundry was everywhere. There was never an extra dime in the checkbook. Hardly even time to make more babies, if you get my drift...

So I clung to the hope that some day Bill and I would at last have time to "Spend Together". With money to Spend Together. Alone, without laundry or dishes or poopy diapers and other parently things. Romance and all that stuff that you're desperate for when you're young and have young'uns at home. But now that the kids are all official "grown-ups", I realize that that was a rediculous notion; the dream of a young and idealistic woman.

First off, my friend. Kids never grow up. (I didn't! I still felt like Daddy's little girl at age 57.)

Secondly, did I say romance? Are you kidding? Why is it that when we have kids around all the time, we never have the opportunity, and when we at last have the opportunity, we aren't nearly as interested? Romance, indeed.

As for the house being messy, who cares? And money. Who has money these days, anyway? I can buy sheets without feeling guilty now, and that's an improvement.

And last, did I use the word "alone"? Bill and I are still almost never alone. With our big bunch, someone is always coming home for the weekend, and when that one leaves, another shows up for the week. And the celebrations are constant. Last week was Kathleene's 40th birthday with 30 people at my house, and this weekend is Israel's second with a party at the other grandma's house.

But who's complaining? We are crazy about every one of our kids and their families, too. We are blessed to the max.

(By the way, folks, when it comes to sex, everybody knows that sex is overrated in our society...at least, that's what Bill and I think we should keep telling ourselves. But we don't. We just complain. Grope and complain behind our grown children's backs...)

What brought this all on is JoAnna. Still Baby Joie, to me. She is 25 and is moving to New York City next month. It's such a big deal for Bill and me, as all of our children but for our California girl, live relatively nearby. This weekend Joie is flying up there to check out apartments in the big city. Alone. I'm a nervous wreck, but not as much of one as she is. (If it wasn't for prayer, I'd not be able to let her go at all.) Being the last week of summer (and Bill's in the school building business,) Bill can't go with her. And while I would really like to help, and think I am best at these things, I am unable to do so due to advanced arthritis. I've been to New York before, and know how hard it is to get around up there. If Joie were moving to Charlotte or Atlanta or Los Angeles (or any place that has parking places instead of subways) I would be able to assist in the hunt for a home. But not New York City.

So JoAnna is all grown up today, whether she likes it or not. Whether I like it or not. And she was my little Joie just yesterday. That's life, my friend.

So to you young mothers, I say, "Enjoy!" Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!!! Enjoy this moment. Enjoy this day. I know it's hard sometimes. You're tired. You're sick of washing laundry and doing homework. The house looks like one of those reality shows where they make some poor packrat throw out everything. To top it all off, you haven't got a moment to romp with your hubbie, and you are young enough to be desperate.

Darlin'. Listen to a woman who understands (believe me) how you're feeling right about now. All too soon, your youngsters are going to be grown-ups just like my kids are. Just like you are. One day. Some day. But before you start feeling all sad and depressed, I am here to assure you that you needn't worry about ever losing your job as a mother. Because that, my dear, will never happen.

Once a mother, always a mother. And that's that.

Deber

PS: Bill and I have two (2) baskets of laundry in our bedroom as a regular lifestyle. Laundry is forever...